The White Song
by Orpiment Love
Summary: A ghost with yellow eyes attempts to rescue a Dunmer boy in the mountains north of Windhelm.


Disclaimer: I do not own Skyrim, The Elder Scrolls, or any of its content. I make no money off this. Please buy the game and support Bethesda.

Rating: Teen, for violence.

Author's Note:  I have long wanted to write about all these Argonians I created in my mind, including the whole backstory I invented for them. At this point in time I don't see any of that happening. I have written bits and pieces of my Argonian characters and families-specifically their family history-but for my own leisure and time. This will likely be the first and last piece I ever publish of my (post?-)Skyrim Argonians.

Many things may not make sense to you, the reader. I apologize for that. It's part of my lore-building. I suppose that is what I have always enjoyed about The Elder Scrolls games, is the immensity of their lore.

Although I don't note it in the story, this story probably takes place one to two decades after the Dragonborn(so, Dragonborn happens in 4E201, and this occurs anytime between 4E211-221). I don't know what I sought to accomplish with this piece of writing. I can probably blame the anime "Moribito: Guardian of the Spirit," listening to music by Denez Prigent and Lisa Gerrard (seriously, listen to them!), thinking about some parables in the Bible, and the sense of hopelessness due to my current unemployment. The main character in this story is based on a Skyrim character I created but never really played with. Most of the adventuring was conceptual.

Enjoy it for what it is, even if it makes no sense. Apologies for any unchecked or improper grammar.

* * *

The White Song

A black spire rose out of the mountainside, in stark contrast with the white ice piercing the landscape. Unbeknownst to existence, a white ghost was pushing closer and closer towards the black monstrosity that pretended to hide from strangers. This ghost would have easily blended in with the white ice if it hadn't been for the black iron hanging on its body.

Yellow eyes, like the eyes of the snake, focused on the spire. The spire seemed serpentine in form. Most travelers would have turned back at an approaching ice storm, but a ghost with yellow eyes could not allow an ice storm to destroy her plans.

* * *

The Jarl had wondered why this white Argonian had taken the bounty. A Dunmer child was just another Dunmer child, after all. The city of Winterhold could do without more Dunmer, at least that's what many of the local Nords believed.

"Where are you from Argonian?" the Jarl asked. He was sitting on his stone throne, apparently more tolerant of Argonians than other Nords. In his youth, the Jarl was a muscular, active man. But in his old age, perhaps his late 70's, his body was slowly disintegrating. His eyesight was getting worse as well.

"Come closer Argonian, if you will not give me your name. Your scales are a unique color…I must admit I have never seen one of your people in this color." The white Argonian moved closer to the throne, as had been commanded. She didn't speak. None of the household guards blocked her away. Although she was armored, she was not massive by any means. The Jarl squinted his eyes.

"Hhhmm." He began stroking his beard. "I see. You must have been born here Argonian. I know there are others of your kind that are not dock workers. You have an Imperial name. May I ask what it is?" The Jarl leaned back in his stone throne, waving some of his attendants off.

The white Argonian shifted her weight, clearly thinking how to answer. She could not lie. "At one point I did have an Imperial name. But now I do not try to name myself. But if you must know the family name, it is Hortensia. My father was a thane for the Jarl of Morthal, oddly enough." She rested more easily in her stance.

"Ah yes," the Jarl replied. "I believe I have heard of your family name in the past. I am more familiar with the Arsinian and Pontidian Argonians, not so much with yours. No worries." The Jarl clapped his hands together gently. "Now, down to business Hortensia." The Jarl's tone suddenly became more serious. "There is a Dunmer boy who has gone missing from the Gray Quarter. He is associated with the Atheron family relatives living in the Gray Quarter. His first name is Casimal. Thus, his name is Casimal Atheron. He was reported missing three days ago."

To the white Argonian's surprise, the Jarl's tone mellowed. "He was last seen two days ago, mid-day, leaving the marketplace after telling one of the smiths that he would be heading west along the River Yorgrim. Apparently, the boy was saving some septims to have a steel dagger crafted for him, the blacksmith told me. Casimal's parents claim they do not know about why their son disappeared. I had reasons to be suspicious, but I believe they are telling the truth."

The story amused the white Argonian. "So how exactly do you know where he is?" she asked.

"Ah yes, I forgot that part," the Jarl replied. "It just so happened that an Imperial courier was heading north from Whiterun on the Imperial road, to deliver a message to a woman here in Windhelm. Not too far from where the road splits northwest to Dawnstar or east to Windhelm, the courier claimed he saw what looked to be bandits dragging a 10 year old Dunmer boy up a steep slope. This Imperial courier had no weapons, so he ran as fast as he could to Windhelm to report the incident to my guards. This was as of 9pm last night. There is no doubt in my mind that the Dunmer boy the courier spoke of was Casimal Atheron. Knowing bandits, my guess is that they ambushed the boy on the road and are taking him to a hideout in the mountains separating this city from Winterhold further north. There are ruined towers in the mountains, perhaps the remains of ancient strongholds or originally watchtowers."

This bounty was a goose chase, a waste of time. The Jarl knew that no one would take this bounty once told of the fact the location was unknown. But perhaps, someone knew the mountains well.

"I have every intention of locating the Dunmer boy, dead or alive." The white Argonian had confidence; the Jarl liked that quality.

"I can tell there is something unique about you, Hortensia," the Jarl said. "A single boy disappears from the Gray Quarter. Yet that single boy is worth saving, even if that means leaving all the other Dunmer living contently in the Gray Quarter. Whether his parents see their son alive or dead, I know that one Argonian will rejoice because that son was found."

* * *

A ghost can travel unseen unless it wants to be seen. This ghost with yellow eyes had somehow made it to the entrance of the black spire, and swung her greatsword against the heads of both guards. They were bandits; dangerous to any peasant but to a trained paladin, most bandits were easy pickings. She heard screaming and panic inside. She realized they were trying to bide time. Arrows from the top of the spire could not be fired down below because of angle, and the fact that the ice storm made visibility difficult.

This ghost had every intention of stomping right in. Using Alteration magic, she unlocked the wooden door and then set fire to it with a simple Destruction spell. To her surprise, the door hadn't been bolted. Most likely, the bandits hiding out in the spire thought that no visitors would come in the middle of dangerous weather.

As the door was burning, an orc with a shield and iron battle axe came crashing through the fiery remains. At first he swung stupidly and blindly, allowing the ghost to side-step him and graze her greatsword on the orc's right shoulder. The iron greatsword met the steel pauldron-or shoulder guard-of the orc, lessening the blow to the point where it may only bruise the orc's outer skin. Realizing her mistake, she managed to rest her greatsword on her left shoulder, leaving her right hand temporarily free. She back stepped as quickly as she could in her black iron armor, further into the fading ice storm. The orc roared and attempted to make his way towards her.

Making his way towards her, he stumbled for a moment. His rage was making him stupid, but the pursuit also was making the ghost tired and unable to stand. He was breathing heavily, almost in gasps. He bent down, resting his elbows on his feet. As soon as he gathered his breath, a bright solar light came toward him, engulfing his whole body in flame. The Fireball spell made no sound until it slammed into the orc, blanketing him in dancing flames that would have made any Destruction mage jump with excitement. His screams didn't last long as his body became ashes, the flames re-shaping his steel armor.

Ignoring the massive destruction, the ghost with yellow eyes proceeded into the spire. On her guard, she ran into the ruined spire with as much gusto as she could possibly muster. Expecting more bandits to hide and ambush in the structure, instead she found a Dunmer boy locked in a cage and starving. He smelled of filth and his clothes were torn. She was amazed that his throat hadn't been slit at the last minute. Despite his weak state, his eyes widened.

"You are…Casimal Atheron?" With what strength she had left, she unlocked the cage with one of her other, more advanced Alteration spells. The lock fell harmlessly to the floor, the cage door opening in the process. The Dunmer boy crawled out. Although he was half-starving, he was a fighter. Not too far away from the cage where Casimal had been locked away, the ghost with yellow eyes saw a steel dagger sitting on a wooden chair in plain view. Questions about why the boy left Windhelm would be left for another day.

The Dunmer boy started crying. He ran into the white ghost with eyes, hugging her. "They…they came after me…but, why?" Although tears were streaming down his face, his eyes widened again in surprise. "But who are you?" The Dunmer boy had never spoke to an actual Argonian; only told to stay away from them and other Nords by his parents in the Gray Quarter.

"Once I was someone," she replied. "But then I became nobody. Not too long ago, I became someone again. At that time, I realized that my life was worth living. Your life too, is worth living. You too, can become someone again." She handed him some dried meat from a travel pack and water from her drinking gourd. "I was born Hortensia Decima. Later, I became nobody. But then, I allowed myself to be welcomed by a military order of the god Stendarr. I was welcomed as Justina. Other members began to call me "The White Song" as I progressed in my training. Rather than becoming nobody again, I simply became referred to as "Justina, The White Song.""

"Now rejoice Casimal Atheron, because you have been found."


End file.
